Learning His Place
by thesleepyheads
Summary: AU, post-Nero: Savior of the Federation or not, the Admiralty's got a bone to pick with James T. Kirk. Full summary inside. Eventual Kirk/Spock, K/S, Spork, Spirk, Kock, you get the picture. Rating may go up.


**Learning His Place**

by Cait Pen

_AU, post-Nero: Savior of the Federation or not, the Admiralty's got a bone to pick with James T. Kirk. After a disciplinary hearing where he is tried for everything from academic dishonesty to assaulting a superior officer, not even the defense of the entire _Enterprise_ crew is enough to absolve him. James T. Kirk is shunted from the Command Track and sentenced to life as an engineer. But when he is stationed aboard the _Enterprise_, will he be able to submit to the new Captain, or will his instinct to lead during a crisis cause him even more grief? Slow building K/S. Very slow._

**Chapter One: ****Diminishing Returns**

**or**

**in which someone is unfairly fucked over**

Jim Kirk allowed his gaze to drift between the news feed on his console to the PADD in his hand, shifting to pass a hand over his face, briefly letting some of his exhaustion peek through his fingers. Quickly signing the bottom of the PADD (the last one for now, thank God), he gave all his attention to the console on his desk.

_What is the Admiralty playing at?_

Of course, he knew exactly what they were doing.

_Building a fucking gallows._

He ran a hand through his hair and contemplated the newest headline.

_**Federation Flagship In Whose Hands?**_

_After the disastrous events of the last week, the Federation and Starfleet are only just beginning to piece themselves back together. While the Federation as a whole is attempting to get its feet back under itself after the loss of one of its founding homeworlds, Starfleet in particular has to deal with the loss of nearly its entire graduating class. The sudden deaths of so many young men and women have shaken Starfleet to its very core. _

_This is one of many reasons to grant them a little leeway._

_However, a recent statement issued by the Starfleet Admiralty reveals that the one ship to survive the attack by the terrorists who destroyed the Vulcan homeworld is being commanded by one James T. Kirk, formerly a senior cadet, who stowed away on the mission to Vulcan after being grounded by the Admiralty for cheating on the famed Kobayashi Maru test. _

_At this juncture one has no choice but to wonder, "What the hell is Starfleet thinking?"_

_James Kirk (though his surname name does, of course, strike deep in the hearts of most Federation citizens) has no real qualifications. Public record shows a history of violence, several arrests, and reports of delinquency and truancy. A look into the files released by Starfleet after the aforementioned press release reveals several questionable psychological evaluations that lead one to wonder how this individual even made the Starfleet command track. _

And it went on. That was literally just the beginning. It, along with at least a dozen other similar articles published over the last five days, went on the dissect every aspect of his life, his personality, and his career at Starfleet. It was only recently that Jim realized why Starfleet had decided to help paint him in this light (releasing his records to the public, releasing carefully worded statements).

Jim chuckled humorlessly. _Offered up like a sacrificial lamb._

He should have seen it coming. The Federation was crippled, hemorrhaging support from its citizens, and they needed someone to blame. Like the act of burning him at the stake would cauterize the wound left by Vulcan's destruction.

_Christ, it must be later than I thought, I'm spouting cliches._

Jim reached over to switch off the monitor just as his CMO walked through the door. He glanced over.

"You know, you're only supposed to use the medical overrides in emergency situations." Even as he said it, Jim wondered if he'd ever be able to be actually angry at Leonard McCoy.

McCoy looked momentarily repentant. "I thought you'd be asleep." He frowned. "You _ought_ to be asleep."

A glance at the chronometer told Jim it was 0300. He shrugged. "Too busy."

McCoy's scowl deepened. "I know for a fact you've put yourself on Alpha at 0600 tomorrow." Pause. "Today."

Jim stood and moved around his desk, leaning against it and crossing his arms, not looking at his long time friend. "Couldn't sleep."

McCoy's frown softened slightly. "Nightmares?" His only reply was a sideways glance. He sighed, "I can't give you anything if you want to be anywhere near functional at 0600."

"I know."

Another sigh. He slowly stripped off his coat and shoes. "Well, come on, then."

Jim smiled slightly and went to join McCoy on the bed.

"Thanks, Bones, I-"

"Yeah, yeah, you owe me one, I know the drill."

A pause.

"It's not like it's a chore, climbing into bed with a dashing young man like me."

"If you ever want me to do it again, you'd best shut your trap."

Jim slowly drifted into sleep.

OOOOO

It would take the _Enterprise_ a whopping thirteen days to return to Earth without a warp drive. Which, unfortunately, meant that James Kirk had plenty of time to read and respond to the many strongly-worded messages commed to him from the Starfleet Admiralty. They were not happy with him. In fact, one might go farther and say they were furious. They reminded him that he was a third-year senior cadet, not a captain, that he was a delinquent, a rebel, that he had problems with authority, that he should relinquish command to Commander Spock.

That there was a veritable shitstorm awaiting him in San Francisco unless he stopped fucking with them _right now._

(He was so tired of this shit.)

_Captain Pike appointed me First Officer during a crisis situation. According to Starfleet regulation 37.02 a field promotion holds until the Commanding Officer revokes said promotion or until the situation surrounding the promotion and the performance of the promoted can be reviewed by a governing board of Starfleet Captains and Admirals. Commander Spock has resigned his command due to emotional instability, according to Starfleet regulations 619 and 620. Said command cannot be returned until Commander Spock can receive a full psychological evaluation, according to regulation 56.79, subsections A through C. This ship's designated counselor was killed in action, therefore a psychological evaluation cannot be completed until the ship has returned to Earth, or the nearest Starbase._

" '_Which, as you may or may not know, since I sincerely doubt you have ever bothered enough to remove your engorged ass from your cushy office to set foot on a Starship, is in orbit around Earth.'_ Got all that, Lieutenant?"

Uhura nodded, smirking slightly. Jim turned toward her again, considering. "You know, that might be taken as a bit disrespectful. Lieutenant, edit message: _'...enough to remove your engorged ass from your cushy office to set foot on a Starship,_ Sir,_ is... _et cetera. Got it?"

"Yes sir. Sending transmission." There was a musical beep, and it was sailing away to San Francisco.

Jim didn't hear from Starfleet very often after that.

OOOOO

Most of Jim's time was spent in Engineering, helping with repairs. The main bridge was out of commission due to damages, and the auxiliary bridge was so small that he could honestly accomplish most of the duties he was expected to perform there more efficiently in his own quarters. Most days he only spent half of Alpha shift on the aux. bridge before wandering to another part of the ship to help put the Silver Lady (as Scotty was prone to calling her) back on her feet.

Engineering could use all the help it could get. The unanticipated ejection of the entire warp core had caused trauma to three different decks, and while some of the repairs were superficial, the impulse engines had also sustained some nasty reactor damage that was not easily dealt with. It seemed like every day at least three engineers were sent to Sick Bay with coolant burns.

The extra time spent in Engineering also afforded Jim the opportunity to get to know the madman he had rescued from Delta Vega. Montgomery Scott was a singular mind. He combined the eccentricity of a man who had spent six months on a God-forsaken ice rock with only an oyster-faced alien for company with the genius of one of Starfleet's greatest mechanical minds. His approach to the engines of the _Enterprise_ was... unique.

"Ye've got te treat her like the lady she _is,_ Captain. You got te _listen_ te her, te _feel_ her, te _recalculate her dilithium ratios te account for the loss of speed an' the surplus of energy."_

And he was always good for a nightcap after Beta shift. Count on an engineer to be able to produce potable replicated Scotch.

"Computers can be very reasonable when ye've got a hyperspanner in one hand an' more than twenty-five years o' experience in the other."

It was no surprise, really, that Scotty and Bones got along well.

Two days into their journey back to Earth, Scotty helped Jim send an encrypted message to the Delta Vega outpost for Spock, er, Old Spock. It contained little, only news that they had indeed destroyed Nero, a few sentences on Pike's condition, and their ETA for Earthdock. The next day he received a reply from the old man, which, thankfully, lacked the dry decorum of the initial message. Spock detailed everything about his days since Jim's departure from Delta Vega, including who had won most of the card games that he and Keenser (the aforementioned oyster-faced alien) had played.

Jim literally felt himself relax as he read the missive from his new friend. From that point on he didn't feel the need to be quite so polite in his correspondence with the old man. And, indeed, he loved being able to really talk to someone about everything, without being judged. Usually Jim had Bones for this service, but as he was so busy all the time, Spock would have to be a suitable substitute. And he was.

Besides, there were things he couldn't talk to anyone but the old man about, like his tentative truce with Spock the Younger, his hope for a possible friendship with the same (to which the old man had simply replied with a completely Vulcany, convoluted "I told you so.)

Every day, he'd manage to make his way to Sick Bay to check on Pike. His condition was stable, but Bones'd had to induce a coma for him to heal properly after a massive twelve hour surgery, and he'd likely wake a few days before they got to Earth, if all went well.

And then the day arrived.

Jim got the call while hanging upside down in Engineering, trying to get a ratchet to fit where it _really_ didn't want to, three days before they were scheduled to dock at Starbase 3.

"_Sickbay to Captain Kirk."_

"Kirk here. Go ahead, Bones."

"_Pike's awake, and asking for the Captain."_

Jim winced. He knew what that meant. "You haven't told him?"

"_No."_

"...I'll be there in ten minutes."

**AN: Okay guys, I give you leave to hate me. Hate away. I know I promised a rewrite of the first three chapters plus a new one, but I suck. I suck so bad at this fic, and it may be slow going for a while. But don't give up! Updates will come, slowly but surely. And I still love all of you guys. **

**So. Love and patience to my readers. The ones who are still with me.**

**LOVE**

**William Chalmers Jr.**

**P.S. The chapters preceding this one will be removed in short order, likely with the posting of my next chapter. Prepare yourselves, mortals.**


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